


Dancing Queen

by fefeps



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, or at least what the writer thinks is humor, these two are in love that's ALL
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21719473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fefeps/pseuds/fefeps
Summary: Navigating through adult life was already hard to begin with, but sometimes impromptu crushes on your teenhood enemies was another thing all together. Not to mention all the baggage that comes with a friend group full of exes. Put some nostalgic music on and try and dance your feelings away, that always seemed to help, somewhat.
Relationships: Chloé Bourgeois/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	Dancing Queen

**Author's Note:**

> So... a chloe/mari fic? in the year of our lord 2019? yeah i'm kinda late for this bandwagon, i think it had it's peak way before yet here i am, utterly obsessed with these two as a concept. So please enjoy this.. mess of a fic i'm drafting up. all typos are on me as this isn't betad at all

The starting beats to an 80's pop song reverberated throughout the dimly lit bathroom. Slightly muffled but recognizable even through layers of plaster and insulation. Drowning out the hitched breathing sneaking itself from the cracks of a locked stall. Graffiti surrounding a head of blonde like a halo of dirty words, like personifications of her thoughts scribbled onto the wall by bored strangers.

She could even hear the half screaming half singing of her... friends through it all. The song was a crowd pleaser, even after thirty or so years it attracted people to the dance floor like flies.

She should be there with them shouldn't she. Middle of the group, the lights making her twinkle as she twirled and twirled. Her carefully curated outfit going to waste.

The fact that she wasn't felt like a cruel joke, the white fluorescent light harshly highlighting a mascara streaked face, fallen from grace just to cry in a public bathroom, limbs lethargic and slow.

Chloe Bourgeois should not be in this situation.

Yet here she is. Here she fucking is. 

Now why she is here is a completely different question, and the answer would take longer than it took for her to get herself together for the rest of the night. She did carry everything she needs to freshen up in her tiny purse you see, a small arsenal of products and tips to perform a little magic.

Getting the courage to do so is another thing altogether though. So shall we, start from the beginning of the story. Rewind time, climb up from the bottom of the narrative structure. Past the high point, with the gradual climb downwards. To the ending point of the graph, but the starting point of the tale we are here to tell. 

Shall we.

\------

An undisclosed time back, year 20XX, August.

Chloe Bourgeois found herself in front of a mirror. Not exactly an uncommon occurrence, she tended to check on herself at least ten times a day, maybe more, no scientific studies have been conducted on the grooming habits of this one specific young adult, but you can assume the number is quite high. 

But as stated, found herself in front of a mirror, finishing her extensive makeup routine with a fine misting of a bucket load of setting spray. Fanning it in with what people usually describe as a cheap foldable fan you can get at any souvenir store, in a LOT of places a fan like that shouldn't be sold in, but as it quite prominently displayed a logo for a luxury clothing brand the thing must have cost thousands. 

With every speck of makeup immaculately sealed in like a vice, Chloe flicked a stray hair behind her ear, smoothing her bangs in place before giving her reflection one more smirk. Perfect, she looked perfect, as one should when they have an image to uphold. 

Flouncing out of the plush white stool situated in front of her large vanity Chloe hummed a tune under her breath, leaving the surface of the cream coloured wood quite an abhorrent mess. Her collection was extensive, and her organizational skills almost nonexistent. 

This didn't seem to bother the blonde, as she two stepped in a small dance number past her closet, twirled around her bed in an awkward pirouette and ended up in front of her bedroom doors in what one could describe a cliche disco pose. Finger up in the sky Chloe, ready to face the world. 

Any minute now she would.

...

.....

........

.............

"CHLOE!!"

"Crap!"

The shrill shout of her mother startled Chloe out of her indecisive stupor. Forcing her to take a hold of the chair positioned beside her door so she wouldn't twist an ankle and fell on her ass in the heels she'd convinced herself she needed to wear. Her exclamation didn’t go unheard it seemed, as the distinctive steps of Audrey Bourgeois started to ascend the massive stairwell located at the center of the Bourgeois apartment. 

It was safe to say that Chloe had a tremulous relationship with her mother. After she decided to move back into Paris permanently when Chloe graduated high school the two of them have fallen into a shaky routine. Chloe avoided her mother, told herself she wasn’t avoiding her mother because why should she, and ended up having to interact with the woman anyway. The result of these interactions was... an extremely specific mood you get when trying to converse with a family member you've lived apart from for too long, and suddenly the language you two spoke isn't in sync anymore.

Maybe that's too many words to say that Chloe would like to avoid talking to her mother in this moment at this time right now. So she does what a sane person would do, and turns around to try and escape through her balcony. 

Now you might ask yourself, why would Chloe Bourgeois, fearless and headstrong, someone who knows what she wants, try and get away from a challenge. Oh you're not? Well she most certainly is asking herself that in the moment she tries to situate the heel of her stiletto on the brass balcony railing, chewing on her lip and looking down onto the landing mere feet away. 

Could she do it, jump down like a fool.

Of course she could, why couldn't she, it wasn't even that long of a drop.

....

"You didn't answer me." Audrey Bourgeois said as she locked her sharp eyes with her daughter, who did not look like she was just mere minutes ago trying to jump off of a hotel balcony oh no. She looked perfect, as she should. 

"I didn't." Chloe snapped back, the tone defensive on default, having learned way back to one up her attitude. Her mother seemed to react better to hostility, especially from her daughter, who was more than happy to mirror her mothers attitude back. "I was busy getting ready." 

She said these words as she sidestepped past her mother, out of her room and into the hall. Shouldering her bag and snatching a coat from where she’d left it hanging on an earlier date. With the tan coloured fabric draped around her shoulders she turned back towards the woman standing in her doorway. Hand clutching the strap of her bag maybe a little bit too tight. 

"Did you need something." Chloe asked, wishing for a brief moment that she didn't, but chastising herself for doing so. This was her mother, she should be glad she was even willing to talk to her. 

"I rescheduled Sunday’s dinner for tonight. I expect you to be here when it starts. The Agrestes always arrive early so do keep that in mind." Aubrey said, scoffing almost fondly. Chloe would never understand the relationship Gabriel Agreste and Aubrey Bourgeois had, but it would be a lie to even hint it being warm and welcoming. 

"I will mother." And with that she turned, the peppy mood from earlier sufficiently drained as she descended the stairs to the elevator, and hurried out of the building. 

.. 🐞 ..

"Why is my love life so barren." Were uttered from the mass of blankets formerly known as Marinette Dupaing Cheng. From the confines of her comfortable prison she dramatically waves a hand, as if the hard dorm room bed was a lavish fainting couch, reserved only for the finest of ladies. This made the other occupant of the room snicker, forcing her to pause her incessant tapping. 

Placing her phone screen down onto the wooden surface of her desk Alya Cesaire twirled her chair to face the lump on their shared bunk bed. "Want the hard facts or the easy lie." She said, eyes twinkling with mirth. 

"You're gonna tell me the hard facts no matter what right." Marinette sighed, poking her head from under all of the fluff. Hair a mess and pout in place.

Alya couldn’t help but laugh, "You know me, only honest reporting here."

"Lay it on me then." Now, Marinette knew exactly what Alya would say, she knew it too well. It made her groan internally, and maybe a little externally too, as she pulled the blanket back over her head just as Alya opened her mouth again.

"You obsessed over the same guy for years and then when you two actually got together you decided you didn't actually like him that way."

While Marinette couldn't exactly see the smug look on Alyas face, her words radiated it so intensely it was printed on her retinas anyway. So as a respectful twenty one year old was to do, she keeps groaning and curls up into a ball under her blanket. Surrounded by a plethora of stuffed animals, their button eyes staring straight at her, judging.

That's it!

"I hate it when you're right." She grumbled, finally emerging from her blanket cavern fully. Revealing her pajama clad body to the cold air of the dorm room, making her toes curl as they took contact with the laminated floor. She needed at least two pairs of wool socks to be able to get through the day. 

"I know, which is a shame because I'm always right." Alya quipped, turning back to her phone, and more importantly her blog, leaving Marinette to stick her tongue out at her back. 

Getting up, albeit reluctantly, Mari pads towards the shared closet. Going around last night's study session still on the floor of the room, the two girls taking advantage of a day off by refusing to clean any schoolwork whatsoever. As she hops into a pair of very tight jeans she couldn’t help but to ruminate on Alyas words. Something she found herself doing quite often, to her own chagrin.

It was true that her crush on Adrien lasted for quite a WHILE. All of her formative years someone would say. She wouldn't say she had wasted them by any means, but there was a certain obsession to her feelings that made her cringe these days. Who knew confusing a celebrity crush with a real crush on a real person wouldn't exactly work out when it came to relationships. Adrien and her had tried, for almost a year they tried to make it work after years and years of pining, but the idea of Adrien she had constructed in her head wasn't based in reality, no matter how close friends they had been beforehand. 

Did it all still gnaw at her? Yes it did, and knowing her it would probably forever.

"Speaking of Adrien, weren't we supposed to meet them for coffee like... ten minutes ago." Alya asked, startling Marinette from her thoughts, fingers freezing on the last two buttons of her blouse.

"Oh shit." She exclaimed, eyes wide. "We were!"

"Well, are you ready?" Alya laughed, shouldering her bag, having been done dressing for a while now. Only waiting for Marinette to actually get going.

"Wait yes, no, I mean!" The aforementioned girl panicked, sprinting to get her shoes and coat before Alya could dash out of the door without her.


End file.
